Old Habits
by Gaelcelt
Summary: Steve/Bucky Slash. After Bucky/Winter Soldier is rehabilitated. On a quiet evening at home, Steve discovers his old art portfolio and remembers how much that he enjoyed art. He asks Bucky to pose for him like the old days.


These characters are not mine.

On a quiet night at home, after Bucky has been rehabilitated from his days as the Winter Soldier, Steve opens his art portfolio and remembers how much that he enjoyed art. He asks Bucky to pose for him.

Old Habits

_"Wow-! I can't believe that I forgot this one!"_ Steve thought as he flipped through the old work in his portfolio. Had it been over seventy years since he had sketched or painted something? The still life of a vase filled with cattails and an old telephone, the street scene from Brooklyn in the 1930s, the portrait of Avery Flynn he had drawn at the orphanage… memories reawakened after decades of sleep.

"What're you doing, babe?" Bucky was suddenly beside him, gazing over Steve's shoulder.

Steve cocked a smile, "Do you remember these? I've almost forgotten that I was an artist before I was Captain America…!"

Bucky gazed at the picture of Avery, captivated. "I remember Flynn! I wonder where he went after he enlisted in the Navy…"

Bucky could still see Steve's pale, scrawny little frame hunched in the chair as he sketched Avery, who complained about halfway through, "You finished yet, Rogers? I'm going crazy sitting still!" Bucky had to smile at the memory.

"I asked you to pose I don't know how many times," Steve said thoughtfully, "And I used most of them to fuel the fireplace."

Steve's dark-haired sweetheart chuckled, "And they were usually the best ones!"

Steve joined the laughter, "…and the most incriminating of them, too! Boy, those were different times!" Bucky nodded in agreement. They sure were different! Those were the days when, if you chose to act on those feelings, you had to be discrete or you would pay dearly. Steve and Bucky knew that anyone who was caught could be sent to prison, to some mental institution, have the tar beaten out of them by a gang of thugs, be refused employment, or even be driven to kill themselves. And the two of them were not going to take their chances.

"Things sure are different now! We can actually hold hands in the street, for Pete's sake!" Bucky chimed in, "God, what a relief…!"

Steve nodded. "I wish that I could have saved some of my old art of you…" he murmured. Bucky had been more than willing to strip and pose for Steve, just as long as the curtains were closed and the room was warm. Steve's face glowed at the memory before it suddenly occurred to him.

"Why not try it again?" he asked Bucky, "We don't have to worry about people catching us or giving us grief about it."

Bucky turned to look him square in the eye, clearly interested, "As long as it's warm in the apartment, I'm all yours."

* * *

Steve set up the couch to face the lamp, with the space heater glowing hot beside it. His easel was ready and his paints assembled. He turned as Bucky entered from the bedroom, wrapped in his robe.

"Well?" Bucky said, amused by the stricken look on Steve's handsome face, "Shall I?" Steve nodded.

Bucky loosed his robe and let it fall to the floor. He tried to stifle a giggle as Steve gaped at him; he couldn't get over how cute that Steve was when he had that look.

He had seen Bucky in many states of dress and undress, but he still managed to take Steve's breath away. The scars of long-faded injuries were all that marred his rosy white skin, taut muscles, and impishly handsome face. Steve realized that he was staring when he heard Bucky's teasing laugh and he pulled himself together.

"All right, lie on the couch," Steve instructed softly, trying to keep is cool, "Arms above your head…think of the pose from _Titanic_."

Bucky chuckled again, "You sure are a sap, aren't you?"

"Can I help it?" Steve replied with mock indignation before he smiled along with his model, "All right, now your right leg drawn up and bent, resting against the back of the couch… head down with eyes to me…"

Steve smiled as he studied Bucky's pose, thighs parted and arms raised, his hands furled, his face soft and seductive, "Perfect," he whispered, "Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah," Bucky replied softly.

Bucky had not felt this kind of scrutiny from Steve in a long time and he realized how much that he'd missed it, and he also found his body betraying how much that he enjoyed Steve's gaze on him.

Steve snorted when he looked up from the canvas, amused by Bucky's arousal, "Not until after we're finished, soldier!"

"I can't help it," Bucky giggled, "I like seeing you blush."

"I love you, you randy wolf," Steve said fondly.

"I love you too, you big dope," Bucky replied as his laughter fell to a soft smile.

The process seemed to go on forever for Bucky, with his arms, legs, and neck feeling stiff and his awareness of his exposure, but he would not have traded it for anything. Warm and comfortable from the space heater, he watched Steve with fascination as the blond worked diligently at the easel, glancing at Bucky and then at the canvas again.

"I haven't seen you concentrate so hard in a long time," Bucky murmured, halfway through the process.

Steve smiled as he looked Bucky in the eye, "It's been a while…and I can't help looking at you"

Indeed he couldn't. Bucky looked as beautiful as he ever had. Steve had not painted something so erotic in a long time. Only this time, they knew that they would not have to destroy this picture for their own safety. They shared a knowing glance, one that spoke of fondness and relief.

"Well, there we have it," Steve said finally, "I'm a bit rusty, but you look amazing."

Bucky stretched his stiff limbs, relieved that he could move again. Gathering his robe from the carpet, he eagerly stepped to the easel and peered at Steve's work.

Steve had not captured picture-perfect reality, but his rendering of Bucky on the sofa was vibrantly sensuous. In the shadows of the semi-dark room, Bucky's painted self had a voluptuous aura with emphasis on the suppleness of his muscles and his creamy complexion, the deep burgundy of his nipples, the luscious curve of his smile, the shapely legs, the dark nest of his loins…

But the scars on Bucky's torso, however faint, remained visible in the painting. His metal arm added a poignancy to the scene. And while Bucky's eyes looked seductive, they also had a vulnerable, beseeching expression that was as obvious as the scars.

"I wanted so much to show you as perfect, as sexy as ever… but I can still see you as you were after I found you at Zola's laboratory… after I found you again as the Winter Soldier… you seemed so frail and helpless…" Steve's eyes were intensely wistful.

Bucky suddenly saw himself through Steve's eyes. He wasn't sure what he thought of how he was portrayed in the painting, but he had not seen himself as vulnerable. He worried more about Steve than about himself; he was not afraid of death, except for the fact that he would never see Steve again. He could see now that, more than loved him, Steve adored him. He saw now that, despite the added height and muscle mass, despite his bold face that he wore in battle, Steve was frightened of losing him. Bucky felt butterflies in his stomach, almost more intensely than he had ever before, and he wrapped his arms around Steve.

"I couldn't believe that you actually took it upon yourself to save me," Bucky's voice was soft as he pulled Steve into an embrace, still amazed that this big lug of a man was once a fragile slip of a boy, "And you… I knew that you would have done anything to follow me into the army, but showing up with the extra height and muscle… I would have sworn you were an angel."

Steve kissed Bucky's half-naked chest before he settled his face against it, holding on for dear life. "I can't even begin to say how grateful I am that you're alive… you have no idea how beautiful that you are…" he felt his heart contract and warm tears prick at his eyes as memories of the torture chamber, the fall from the train, and the sight of the Winter Soldier… and Bucky's poor, mangled body… flashed through his mind. He drew a shaky breath as he kissed Bucky's beating heart, "Oh god, but I love you…!"

Bucky's face glowed at the caress and he kissed Steve's hair. "I love you, too," the warm wetness on Steve's face did not go unnoticed by Bucky, "Shhh… don't cry darlin', you'll make me start. I'm here. Neither of us is going anywhere."

Steve squeezed him gently at these words, feeling Bucky ruffle his hair in return.

Raising his face to look up at Bucky, Steve for a moment felt like he was before the serum, when he actually came only to Bucky's shoulders. Bucky definitely noticed, "I haven't held you like that in the longest time," he remarked with a peaceful smile on his face as he leaned in to kiss his lover's tears.

* * *

They broke from an intense kiss, letting Steve remove his shirt and loosen his pants. As they fell to the floor, Bucky followed suit and let his robe fall to the floor.

Steve's eyes widened as he studied Bucky's nakedness, "You're so beautiful… so, so beautiful…!"

"So are you…" Bucky murmured as he studied Steve's brawny, barrel-chested physique, "Small and thin or tall and muscular, I love _you_…"

They closed the gap between them in the first of many passionate kisses.

Finis.


End file.
